The Shores Of The Dead: Omnibus Edition

by Josh Hilden

  “Jesus Christ, Kye!” She exclaimed, “That’s disgusting. If you can’t hold your liquor you probably shouldn’t drink, ya know.” It was all delivered in her ‘I am so much smarter than you’ tone of voice and with a wicked little grin on her pug face. Every time Kyle heard that tone it made him want to scream and this time was no exception.

  “Get … the … fuck … out … of … my … room!” he yelled in between gasps for breath. He turned his head, his chin dripping with regurgitated bile, and looked at her hoping she could see the hatred in his eyes.

  “Fine, you don’t have to be an asshole about it.” She said and slammed the door behind her as she left.

  “Bitch,” he said to himself coldly as he lay back on the floor and waited for the room to stop spinning.

  2

  10:35am EST

  It took all the energy he had left to get up, go into the hall, retrieve a couple of towels, and begin the messy process of cleaning himself and his room. The smell almost made him throw up again, but he fought down the urge and pushed through to the end. That end consisted of four aspirin and a hot shower that was punctuated with the pissed off pounding of Princess Jennifer demanding that he get out of the bathroom. It was because she had to meet Jeremy her boy toy of the week at the library. Her pounding made his head hurt a little more but it was more than offset by his satisfaction in knowing that she was getting angrier at him.

  “Sucks to be you sweetheart,” he said to himself as a grin spread across his face. Unfortunately the same grin made his head pound in return.

  When he finished and dressed, he headed downstairs. He was intent on a cup of coffee and maybe some cereal if his stomach was going to cooperate with him.

  His mother was in her office at the base of the stairs with the door open. He had hoped that she had decided to work at the office today instead of from home but no luck. He knew what was probably coming next.

  “Kyle is that you?” She called out as he attempted to slip by unnoticed.

  You know damn well that it is! He thought to himself. What he said was, “Yeah Mom it’s me.” Kyle tried to inject as much lightheartedness and pep into his voice as he could. He knew she would most likely see right through it.

  “What time did you get in last night?” she asked.

  “About three,” he said. Kyle could have almost scripted the next thing she said. In fact he mouthed it almost word for word behind her back as she said it.

  “Don’t you think that is just a little too late to be out?”

  “I don’t have any classes today and my shift doesn’t start until two.” He said.

  “I still think that you should have come home at a more reasonable hour,” she said without looking up from the computer monitor in front of her. “The responsible thing to do would have been to realize that you are too young and immature to be out partying with your loser friend when you have responsibilities to live up to. Do you think you will ever make anything of yourself if you don’t start acting your age?” It was stated flatly and in the Carson household that signaled Mom at her most dangerous.

  Carol Carson was a real estate agent and independent property investor specializing in the ‘Flipping’ of older houses to middle income families. When the market had begun to tank in 2006, Carol had been one of the few in the field able to ride the wave of foreclosures to even higher profit margins. There were times when he was alone that Kyle thought his mother had more in common with a Komodo dragon than with a human being when it came to business and making money. Unfortunately, she seemed to apply that same cold and predatory nature more and more to her personal life as the years went on.

  She hadn’t always been like that.

  Kyle remembered the years when Tina was alive. These were years that Jennifer did not remember at all, having been three when their big sister died. Tina had been five years older than Kyle and she had come down with Leukemia at the age of six. When Kyle had been five years old and Jennifer two, Tina had died and their mother had never been the warm and loving woman that had birthed them ever again.

  Then the years of nagging and judging had begun. Everything Jennifer did was fine with their mother because she was the baby. It seemed that God himself decreed that Kyle was destined to be a complete and total screw up no matter how much he tried to please his mother. Everything that he did was wrong. He didn’t play any sports except for track, and as far as Carol Carson the star college basketball player was concerned track was not a real sport. He spent most of his education concentrating on history and English classes while his mother was of the opinion that he should be moving toward the sciences.

  Worst of all as a student at Wright State University he was working on a Teaching degree. Carol Carson considered that complete waste of time, so much so that she refused to pay for any of it. This forced Kyle to work two jobs and take out thousands of dollars in student loans that he would never be able pay back.

  Kyle stopped and processed his Mother’s diatribe, then walked back toward her office. Maybe it was the headache, or the fight with his sister, or the fact that he had a long shift at the Toy Store ahead of him and a paper due in European History in three days. Maybe it was even guilt over what he had been thinking about his best friend earlier. Kyle had reached a tipping point and he had a thing or two he needed to get off of his chest.

  “Benny is not a loser.” He said quietly.

  Carol stopped typing and turned her chair around and stared at him. “What did you say?” She asked.

  “I said that Benny is not a loser. He is the best friend that I have ever had and you don’t know anything about him.” The anger was starting to bubble in the pit of his stomach. It was of course accompanied by the cold sick feeling that confrontation with anyone always brought to his body.

  “I have known that boy since he was five years old and he is destined to spend the rest of his life swinging a mop and pushing a broom and working at that damn store. Maybe if he is very lucky he might get a job at an auto shop, but I doubt he could keep it if he got it. I think the only reason he still has the job at the store is because you got it for him.” She said in the same tone of voice she used when she told his father that they were out of milk and he would have to pick some up.

  “You don’t know him.” He repeated.

  “I know that he kept you out drinking until three in the morning. What kind of friend does that knowing that you have responsibilities, and that it will get you in trouble?”

  “I wanted to go out and blow off some steam, who does it hurt?” Now he was getting seriously mad. This was just another attempt by his mother to direct his life into the channel she wanted it to run.

  “You’re just a kid. You don’t have any clue what you want, and that boy is just making things worse.”

  “I am 22 years old. I work two jobs. I go to school full time on my own dime. If I want to go out with my best friend for a few drinks I can.” Even as he ticked off the points in his own mind Kyle heard the hard edge that his voice was taking on and he knew the response it would elicit from his mother. For the life of him he was physically unable to stop it.

  “You live under my roof and …” that was as far as she was able to get on this old and tired chestnut before Kyle cut her off. For the first time since puberty had reared its ugly head, and had made his voice drop, and his arm pits stink like cheap Mexican food if he didn’t use copious amounts of antiperspirant and deodorant Kyle Carson interrupted his mother and yelled over her.

  “I Pay You Rent!” He yelled, enunciating each word as if it were capitalized. Then the house went silent. The only thing he could hear was the buzz of the television in the kitchen.

  “I think that you should get going to work.” His mother said very quietly. Rage lines were criss-crossing her face. Kyle felt a spike of smug self-satisfaction at the sight of it.

  “Fine.” he said and turned storming toward the kitchen. The tears of rage were barely being held back as he crossed the threshold into the bri
ghtly lit room. Jennifer was standing at the counter fiddling with the little television set that sat there.

  “Why were you two fighting?” She asked him when he walked in. “Was it about Benjamin?” That was something new with her, since last Halloween she had stopped calling him Benny and had been referring to him as Benjamin. Kyle figured it was just her way of looking down on his working class best friend. The sound of it irritated him.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He said. The confrontation with his mother had overshadowed most of the original anger he had been feeling toward her.

  Instead of pushing the issue she gestured toward the TV and said, “Every channel is the same, they all have this message that says the cable company is experiencing technical difficulties … fucking technology.” The last was said in a tone so much like their father’s that Kyle chuckled. Carl Carson was famous for his anger and blind rages toward the only cable company in the valley.

  “Did Dad already leave?” He asked as he rooted around in the cabinet for a box of Captain Crunch.

  “Yeah, he had to be in Indianapolis before noon.” Their father was the owner of Regional Janitorial Services Company, the same one that Benny and Kyle both worked part time for when they weren’t selling Power Wheels or cleaning up at Toys “R” Us.

  Kyle grunted and poured himself a bowl of cereal. This was going to be a long day, he thought.

  “Do you need a ride up to the library?” he asked Jenny as he rinsed out his cereal bowl and put it into the dishwasher.

  “No, I’m going to take the bus.” Something about the way she said that made his “Big Brother Radar” spring into action.

  “Is Scarlet going with you?” He asked in a tone so casual that she knew right away he was fishing for information far beyond whether Scarlet Parker was going. He always felt sorry for Scarlet. Her mother’s fixation on Gone with the Wind had saddled her with a moniker that was hard to live down.

  “No, she has to work.” She didn’t look him in the eyes when she said it.

  “So who are you else are you going with?”

  “Just some people from school” she said, and then she went on the offensive. “It’s not like it’s any of your business anyway.”

  He shook his head and said looking her right in the eyes, “No, it’s not my business. If you do something that gets you in trouble, who do you think mom will be madder at, me or you?” It’d been that way ever since Tina had died. It was Kyle’s responsibility to keep an eye out on Jenny. If he failed in that Herculean task it was his ass more than anyone else’s that was going to get chapped.

  “It’s not my fault she takes it out on you. I never asked to have you as my own Secret Service agent.” She hissed so their mother wouldn’t hear her.

  “No, it’s not your fault but that’s the way it is.” He sighed as he said this. They’d had this conversation a dozen times over the last year and they were no closer to reaching an agreement. He figured he would give it one more shot. “Look, just promise me that if you are going to be late or if you get in any trouble you will call me, okay?” He asked.

  She huffed loudly and then nodded her head before leaving the kitchen and heading toward the living room.

  Kyle felt a little better after winning this ever so small victory over his sister, and headed back to the steps with some of the weight lifted from his shoulders. He passed in front of his mother’s office again and saw that she had closed the door and, he was sure, locked it as well.

  He headed up the stairs and when he got to his room, he packed up his “Ready Bag” as his father always called it. The Ready Bag was a backpack that he took everywhere. It contained his laptop, a shaving kit, paperback book of the week, a bottle of soda or juice, a candy bar, and extra components for his PDA and laptop. He threw on his red work shirt and grabbed his navy blue hoodie out of the closet.

  Kyle then headed back downstairs and out the front door without saying goodbye to anyone. He was already less than excited about going to work as it was.

  3

  Toys “R” US

  Miamisburg, Ohio (South of Dayton)

  October 18, 2012 AD (Day One)

  3:15pm EST

  The day could not have been worse if he had planned it. When he arrived at work he was told that the new bicycle assembler had called in. Now he would have to be the one to stand in the cramped assembly area all day and build countless bikes for snot nosed kids who probably would rather have a new game for their X-Box instead. He also had to work in the same area as Carlos Boyd, the stockroom supervisor and one of the biggest douche bags that Kyle had ever dealt with.

  “You ain’t done with that yet, Carson? You know that bike assemblers have to meet a quota every day or it’s a write up don’t ya?” Carlos asked for the dozenth time as he walked past the work area where Kyle had been trapped for what felt like days.

  “This is my fourth bike, Carlos. I am well within the quota.” Kyle said through gritted teeth. It was always like this when he had to build bikes. Carlos seemed to love nothing more than to see how much shit he could give Kyle on any given shift.

  It was no secret that Carlos thought that Kyle was an idiot and had tried on more than one occasion to get him fired. His latest attempts had revolved around Kyle listening to audio books on his MP3 player while he was working. This would have been a problem if Kyle worked out on the sales floor, but as the store’s maintenance man his job had little if nothing to do with interacting with the customers. For some reason, even though he was in no way Kyle’s boss, it stuck in Carlos’s craw that the store manager allowed it.

  “Yeah, well you had better keep track and not fall behind. Nine o’clock is a long ways off.” He said with a sneer. Carlos was short and squat to Kyle’s tall and lean, and with Kyle’s track background it was a coin flip as to which was stronger. Kyle’s fear of confrontation guaranteed that he never stood up to Carlos, no matter how much he wanted to.

  The store wasn’t really busy. They were in a slow retail period but this was the time of the year that people bought bikes and Kyle knew he was going to be very busy. He was turning back to his latest construction when he heard screams and the sounds of a commotion from the front of the store.

  “What the fuck?” Kyle asked the room. That was all he needed today--a bunch of punk assed kids raising hell in Toys “R” Us because they have nothing better to do with their day off from school. He tried to block out the noises as he continued to assemble the mountain bike mounted on the bench.

  Thirty seconds later the double doors flew open, and Carlos came busting into the assembly area. “Where the hell is the crowbar?” He demanded panting heavily.

  “What?” Kyle asked. He looked at Carlos and saw that the blowhard asshole looked terrified.

  “I need the goddamn crowbar, where the fuck is it, kid?!” He was almost screaming this time.

  “Hanging on the rack,” Kyle replied gesturing toward the tool rack behind the pallet of unassembled bikes he was trying to work through.

  Carlos darted past the pallet and yanked the two foot crowbar they used to break apart pallets and open large crates off its hook. As he passed by Kyle heading toward the sales floor Kyle asked, “What the hell is going on out there?”

  “Jackie’s been attacked!” he yelled back, never slowing down for a second.

  Kyle dropped the screwdriver he’d been holding onto the cracked concrete floor and followed after Carlos. The mountain bikes were left forgotten.

  It was chaos on the sales floor. The few customers who’d been in the store were running for their cars. The Store Manager, Mike Haehl, was in the process of ushering them out and locking the doors behind them, he looked back and saw Kyle coming out of the back room.

  “Kyle, I need you to make sure the loading dock doors are padlocked and the fire doors are shut.” He called out from across the store.

  Kyle gave him the thumbs up and ran toward the back room. The two loading dock doors were firmly padlocked, and the t
hree fire doors in the store room were shut tight. They were the kind of doors that had no handles on the outside and could only be opened from the inside. When he was sure the back room was secure, he headed for the employee lounge and made sure the emergency door there was closed as well. Then he headed back to the front of the store. He didn’t even make it 20 feet when he saw a knot of employees heading for the lounge. Four of them were carrying Jackie, who appeared to have passed out.